No Pain, No Gain
by Duochanfan
Summary: Coming down with the Flu is only the beginning of a bad time for Dr John H Watson, though there is something on the horizon that may make all the pain he goes though fade away. But with Moriarty on the move once again, will John and Sherlock be able to overcome the threat and the pain that follows? Eventual Johnlock, with a touch of Mystrade.
1. Chapter 1

_**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**_

**This is my first time in writing Sherlock Fanfiction, so I do hope that you will be kind to me as I make my way and learn the ropes of the characters that are Sherlock Holmes, Dr John H Watson and those that join them on their many cases and adventures through the streets of London.**

**There are two people that I need to thank, one is Kizzia for help with the title, Thanks Sweetie! And DragonSlayer2187 who went through this for me, huggles bab!**

**Please Enjoy!**

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**No Pain, No Gain**

**Chapter One**

John groaned as he pulled his quilt over his head and ducked under it just that little bit more. He could hear the pounding of sock clad feet, as they needed his room. He just knew what Sherlock was going to ask, and he knew that he would once again give in and get up to go with him, even though he was feeling like total crap. His head was beginning to pound and his body ached and all he wanted to do was to sleep, but he knew it wouldn't happen. There had been a number of murders in the city over the last two weeks, and each one were beginning to get more vicious as each victim turned up, with the amount of lacerations going up.

"John," came the smooth tones of his genius flatmate, Sherlock Holmes, as he burst into his room, "Lestrade just text, we have another body." There was a thrill of excitement running through his voice as he spoke, the chase, the puzzle and the feeling that he had gotten something right and another life may just be saved, "John, get up." He called again as he moved over to the older mans bed and nudged it, wanting him to hurry up so they could go, he didn't want Anderson to ruin the scene before he got there.

John sighed as he pulled the cover down and looked up at the man that was hovering over his bed, "I'm up and awake Sherlock." He said as he sat up, feeling the affects of the flu starting to make itself known. He knew that it was a sudden onset since he had felt fine when he had gone to bed almost three hours ago.

Sherlock looked to him, quickly seeing that he was slightly pale and that there was also a slight flush on the older mans cheeks, he also looked to be in some discomfort, "You're ill," he stated simply.

Blue eyes glanced towards his flatmate and said, "I know," not explaining to the other what was wrong with him, he flipped the cover over and sat up on his bed, "Can I at least have a quick shower before we go?" he asked his friend as he looked up to him and waited for the other to head out of his bedroom.

"Yes," Sherlock said as he looked his friend over once again, he had rarely seen his flatmate without a top on, and he had to admit that John had some hidden muscles on him; it gave him a funny feeling inside when he was able to see his flatmate in such a way. Though what drew most of his attention was the injury to John's left shoulder, the aftermath of him being shot in Afghanistan over a year ago, something that had almost taken the older mans life, before they had even had a chance to meet. He nodded his head quickly and then left the room before he made his friend feel uncomfortable with his scrutiny, "I'll make you some tea." He called out over his shoulder.

John looked a little surprised at the words Sherlock called out to him, he could count the number of times that Sherlock had made him tea on two hands, and that was only in the last month or so.

He shook his head a little, wincing as his head throbbed a little, and made his way to the bathroom, hoping that the shower would help him feel at least semi human before he left the flat. The hot water helped soothe some of the aches, but not everything. He let the water cascade over him as he quickly washed his hair and body as he thought over the lack of severed heads and only the occasionally finger and toes that had appeared in the kitchen over the last few weeks. It pulled him at the slight changes that Sherlock had made in the house, though he still never went to the shop to get milk or groceries. He stepped out of the shower and quickly got dried and dressed.

John walked into the living room and sat down in his chair. Sherlock walked in and placed a mug of tea beside him and walked over to the sofa and sat down. John had his eyes closed for a moment as he then opened them and looked to the Mug and then to Sherlock, "Thanks." He smiled as he picked it up and held it between his hands.

Sherlock smiled back a little and then set to watching him, "You're welcome," he murmured. John had been getting a funny feeling from Sherlock after the case with Moriarty and the incident at The Pool. The other man had taken to watching him a lot of the time when he was in the flat, and when he was out he would often get a random text from him that would require him to answer. John, though, no longer felt uncomfortable with the stares that Sherlock gave him, for he knew his friend was only worried about him. It also gave him amusement for when he did notice being watched for he would look to the other man, who would then quickly look away, as thought he didn't wish to be caught.

John quickly drank his tea, enjoying the warmth that it gave him. He set the mug down on the small end table and looked over to Sherlock. "Shall we?" he said as the two of them stood up.

Sherlock couldn't help but grin to his flatmate as the two of them put on their coats to ward off the chilled September air. Sherlock stood on the curb and shouted, "Taxi!"

John couldn't help the small shake of his head as one pulled up and stopped for them, he knew that if he tried to call one, it would take a few minutes to get one to stop. They climbed into the black cab as Sherlock gave the driver the address. John couldn't help the deep sigh as his body protested being out of the house, his joints aching as he settled back into the seat. He closed his eyes against the flashing lights as they passed by, as each one sent a sharp spike of pain through his head.

"You all right," came Sherlock's voice, startling him a little?

"What?" He asked as he opened his eyes and looked over to the detective.

"I asked if you are all right?" piercing steel grey eyes looked at him, as though they were determining everything about him, and John had no doubt that they were.

"Yeah," he answered him softly, "I'm fine," his voice now sounding a little croaky as he did so.

Sherlock hummed a little in disbelief, he could see that John wasn't well, even if the other didn't want to say anything. He worried a little, in hopes that the doctor would be all right to come with him on this case. He didn't like the fact that he had brought him out, but he felt better having John around and beside him. Sherlock had to admit to himself that he worried every time he let John go out of the house or when he left the older man. Sherlock gave a soft sigh at his thoughts and turned his attention back to the buildings that were going by as they were driven to the crime scene, hoping that they would help distract him from them.

John felt Sherlock's attention leave him and he lent back in his seat, keeping himself still as he waited for the car to arrive at its destination. He needed to keep control as he held back a wince as the car rounded a corner and his body protested the movements. His head was beginning to pound again and he wished he had thought to take some Paracetamol before he had left the flat.

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**Well, there we go my first go at a Sherlock fanfic, and this is only the beginning, there is still a lot to come as I have written quite a bit for the fic already, just need to go through it and edited bits and re-write others.**

**Please review and tell me what you all think, I would love to know.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**This is my first time in writing Sherlock Fanfiction, so I do hope that you will be kind to me as I make my way and learn the ropes of the characters that are Sherlock Holmes, Dr John H Watson and those that join them on their many cases and adventures through the streets of London.**

**Hope you all have a wonderful Christmas! I would normally post on Wednesday, but since Christmas is tomorrow, I decided to let you have the chapter early!**

**Hope you enjoy the second chapter, and please be warned some graphic description of a murder victim, and it isn't pretty.**

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**No Pain, No Gain**

**Chapter Two**

The cab pulled up to the curb, lights were flashing blue against the early morning darkness. Sherlock almost raced out of the cab as John was once again left behind to pay the fare. He stepped out moments after and joined the Consulting Detective as he strode towards the crime scene tape. The tall man ducked under it as Sergeant Sally Donovan came over to them, a scowl already on her face as she saw Sherlock walked towards the scene.

"So, once again we have to put with you, Freak. I don't know why Lestrade needs you, you're just a show off, getting off on the misery of others." She said as she looked to him, a sneer on her face.

Sherlock looked her over from head to toe and then smirked, "Ah, bitter tonight are we, date didn't go well I take it." He said as he took a small sniff, "Date clothing, but the scent of aftershave that is lingering around you belongs to our favourite idiot. So no chance of fun tonight with Anderson then." He told her as he waited for her reaction.

"Grrrrr," she growled as she stomped off in a huff.

John just shook his head, he would have said something, but she stormed off before he had a chance, he hated that Donovan and Anderson constantly tried to belittle Sherlock. Not once in all the time they had worked together had Sherlock started anything with the two, they always started on him first. He had tried to get them to leave him alone, but so far he hadn't been successful in getting them to back off. He knew that Sherlock claimed to be a Sociopath, but he knew that it wasn't right, and he believed that it was a ploy to keep people away from him. They young man did care, he just hid it extremely well, making him appear cold and dispassionate to those around him, those that didn't take the time to get to know and understand the genius.

"Did you have to invite the freak here?" Anderson turned to Lestrade, who was standing by him as the two of them walked over to them. Every time Sherlock was called to a crime scene John would hear the same thing, Anderson complaining.

"Enough of the freak Anderson and get to work," Lestrade told him, his voice stern for once as he called the forensic scientist to order.

"Humph," he huffed as he turned around and went back to photographing the scene before him, trying to make sure that he didn't miss anything.

"Lestrade," Sherlock greeted him, no trace of emotion on his face as he reached the older man.

"Sherlock, thanks for coming." He nodded a small smile working it self on his face as he then turned to the scene and then back to the consulting detective, "I'll let you get to work, just tell me what you can on this one," he then added as lines of worry and stress started to make themselves visible on his face.

Sherlock nodded and moved around Anderson as he took his pictures, sending a sneer to the genius detective as he strode past. Sherlock knelt down by the body, the legs spread apart, hands bound and weighed down above the bodies head. John moved a little closer, coming along side Lestrade as he did so. He watched as Sherlock moved around the body, looking at it from all angles, bringing out his pocket magnifying glass as he worked. He stood up quickly a few minutes and looked around the scene itself, murmuring to himself a little as he did so.

"John, look at the body, what do you observe?" he then asked, as he looked over to the ex army doctor.

John nodded slightly, wincing internally at the pain in his head, he moved a little closer. He looked the body over as he knelt down, letting his mind run over what he could see. The body was that of a 20-25 year old male, Caucasian, with light blond hair and dark brown eyes, that were wide open, unseeing in death. He was naked, his legs splayed out and his arms were bound together and pinned under a slab of slate. Thin lacerations along the arms, legs and torso told him that his clothes had been cut away with a sharp knife. The victims genitals had been removed from the body and placed next to the victims bound hands. There were small gashes over the torso, and with the blood covering them, they told John that the victim had been alive while they were being done. John looked over the body closely, and frowned. He could see a small needle mark by the hairline. He looked to the mouth, there was a small piece of cloth that had been shoved in there.

"Well John?" Sherlock asked, impatience coming through as he spoke.

"The lacerations on his body show that they had been done before death. He was alive when his genitals were removed. During all of this there is no suggestion that he moved or struggled at all. Which, with the needle mark behind his ear, suggests that he as drugged with something." He answered as he stood up, barely able to stop himself from swaying on the spot at the change in height.

Lestrade looked over to the doctor as he quickly wrote down what he had said, "Well Sherlock?" he then asked the consulting detective as he waited for the other to tell him what he had been able to figure out.

"Your killer is a woman, around 5'4" and 115lbs." He said as he walked around the body once more, "She dresses in men's clothing to get into the clubs, her frame is petite, small, she is average looking, but when dressed in more masculine clothing she becomes pretty, something that some men look out for. She lures them out of the club, but when out, she then forces them, I would say with a gun, to the alleys." He added as he knelt down once again, "To make sure that she can over power them with ease she drugs him and then gags him, making sure that he can't call out for help as his strength fades. There is some spittle on the body, I would say it belongs to your killer. She hates him, or more precisely what he represents. Then she emasculates him, leaving him to die." He said as he looked to the older man as he wrote down what he had said.

"A woman, doing this." Anderson scoffed at the deduction Sherlock gave them.

"Yes, a woman," Sherlock said as he turned to him and looked down at the kneeling forensic scientist.

"How could it be a woman?" he shook his head, not believe what Sherlock was saying about the possibility that the killer could be a female.

Sherlock sighed as he looked down to him and was about to say something when he caught sight of John, who subtly shook his head a little hoping to head off his normal rant about stupidity to Anderson's face. He then looked over to Lestrade and partly ignoring the look John had sent and said, "Please, tell me that he is the worst of the idiots that you have on your team and that you are considering getting rid of him for someone with a modicum of intelligence."

"Sherlock," Lestrade said as he asked, "Just tell me why you think it's a woman?" he didn't answer or say anything to the consulting detectives question, knowing that it wouldn't get him anywhere in the end.

He huffed a little as he then answered him, "The shoe size is a five, from the prints around the body, further away there are more prints, but they belong to female shoes, which had been hidden here. This was planned, where she would take them, so she could change, in the bin you will find the clothes that she dumped. As for how tall she is, the injection sight is high, but the angle of it indicates someone smaller reaching up. Not only that but she also knelt on the ground at one point, giving up a indication oh how long her lower leg is, and with basic maths, that even you should be able to figure out Anderson, you should be able to figure out her height." He paused for a moment to take a breath before continuing on, Lestrade taking notes quickly as he tried to keep up, "She is wearing men's clothing to get into the club, as the club this victim was at was a male gay only club, as were the others. She lures them out and then as soon as they get out and out of sight of the doors, she pulls a gun and gets him to where she wants them. As soon as they are in the target area, she drugs them, injects them. It throws them off balance, as you can see from the marks in the dirt, he stumbled and went to his hands and knees, collapsing back. She then over powered him, gagging him, and tying his hands, pinning hem down the slate slab. He had no strength and no way to fight back." He frowned as he started to think was drug could cause those problems.

"Is that all Sherlock?" Lestrade asked as he wrote down the last bit of information that the young man had given him.

"For now," he said as his mind was working on the things that he had gathered from his crime scene and the last one that he had been called to, as well as the files that Lestrade had given to him when he had gone to New Scotland Yard, after being called in to consult on the case.

"If you have anything else to share Sherlock, then do so," he pushed him a little more.

"At that moment there is nothing else to add," he told him as he looked to John and said, "Come on John," and then started to walk away from the scene and to the main road once again.

John looked over to Lestrade and shrugged his shoulders a little as he said softly, "You know what he's like." A wry smile on his face as he followed Sherlock, wondering what the genius was thinking this time and where it would all lead in the end.

"Yeah," you all right with following him again?" he asked the doctor as he got a good look at him. He could see that John was a little pale, and there was a slight flush to him as well. Lestrade thought it might be the lack of sleep, which was often the case with Sherlock and John when they started working a case with him, and it was still only four in the morning.

"Of course," he smiled as he heard Sherlock call for him again, he gave the man a nod as he began to move away.

Lestrade gave the doctor a nod as he said, "Take care of yourselves."

"I'll do my best," John said, his voice sounding a little tired as he spoke.

"John!" came Sherlock's voice once again as he called out to his flatmate.

John and Lestrade shared a smile as the doctor then walked away. Lestrade shook his head as he looked over to Anderson as he was photographing all the things that Sherlock had pointed out to them.

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**Thank you for the reviews so far. So far I have around 50 chapters written up, though they are rough at the moment. I'm going through them, and I am hoping to try and post a chapter a week. **

**Please review and tell me what you think so far! Would love to know.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**This is my first time in writing Sherlock Fanfiction, so I do hope that you will be kind to me as I make my way and learn the ropes of the characters that are Sherlock Holmes, Dr John H Watson and those that join them on their many cases and adventures through the streets of London.**

**Happy New Year to you all!**

**Enjoy**

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**No Pain, No Gain**

**Chapter Three**

John walked away from Lestrade and followed Sherlock's voice as he called for him once again. He hoped that they would be going home, but then again, this was Sherlock and he had to wonder where the consulting detective would drag him off to next. His body aching even more than it did when he first went out of the flat. All he wanted to do was to go back to the flat and climb into his comfy bed and sleep for at least a week.

"Where are we going?" John asked him as he caught up to the detective.

"Home," he answered simply, "There is nothing that we can do at the moment, though we could always go around to each of the clubs, but I don't think that would be good idea for you at this moment in time," he added as he looked to John and looked him over, he could see the tiredness in the others posture as well as the fact that he looked to be in pain, thanks to the small tell between john's eyes that would crease up when he was in any type of pain. The more painful the more of a crease that would show up.

John looked to him thankfully and said, "if you're sure that there isn't something that we can do before we go home then thats fine."

Sherlock grinned a little as he looked down to his shorter flatmate, "Then home we shall go," he nodded and then walked to the kerb and shouted, "Taxi!"

"I really want to know how you get them to come to you straight away," John grumbled a little as he looked to the cab that was pulling up after Sherlock had called out for one.

"Grow a little more taller," he smirked to his friend as he opened the door to the cab.

John growled at the little jibe to his height, as he saw Sherlock get in the back of the cab, he got in as well, "Sherlock, not good." He said as he sat and leaned back, letting himself relax a little as he did so.

"But it is true, I have noticed that a lot of the time the taller you are the quicker you are to get attention from the drivers. It also helps with the way you dress as well, I dress smartly, a suit, and you, well you dress at least." He said as he smirked, glancing over to John, who was once again in dark jeans and a dark jumper, his black jacket pulled tightly around him. Sherlock dropped the smirk as he saw that John was shivering a little.

John sent him a quick annoyed looked as he then saw him frowning at him, he looked back to the window. Not answering the second jibe that had been sent to him. He wondered a little about the look that Sherlock was sending him, but put it out of his mind for now.

Sherlock watched as John relaxed back in the seat and looked out of the window. He was concerned a little as he could see that John was beginning to shiver a little, and to Sherlock he knew that it was a sigh of a fever. He briefly wondered how ill John actually was, he could see that the other was pale and that there was a slight flush on his cheeks.

The cab slowly pulled up to 221B Baker Street and Sherlock opened the door on his side and stepped out. John quickly paid the fare and got out as well. Sherlock opened the front door of their home and bound up the stairs and into their flat.

The ex army doctor sighed as he followed him at a more sedate pace. He stepped into the living room and saw that Sherlock was already in the kitchen, moving around. John thought about going into the kitchen and making some tea, but he quickly dismissed that as all he wanted to do was sit down for a little bit, before he went upstairs to his bedroom to get a little more sleep. John did have work the next morning, and with a glance to his watch, he would have to be up again in around three hours.

Sherlock came out of the kitchen and looked down at John, whose eyes were closed and his head tilted back against the back of the armchair. "John," he said softly as he called to his flatmate and friend.

"Hmm," he hummed as he opened his eyes slowly, he sat up a little more as he had been drifting off in his chair.

"Tea, and then I think you should head to bed." Sherlock said, a soft smile on his face, one that had began to appear more and more as the last month had moved on.

John looked to him and to the mug of tea that Sherlock was holding out for him to take, "Thanks Sherlock." He said softly as he took the mug and held it. He smiled to himself as he looked into the slightly swirling liquid.

"How are you feeling exactly?" Sherlock asked him, John could hear the worry in his voice as he asked his question.

John looked over to him and said, "Just really tired, I think a nice rest would help, though I do have work tomorrow. I have a half shift at the clinic tomorrow morning till around half one."

"Are you sure you should be going to work tomorrow?" he then asked as he went over to the sofa and sat down, watching John as he slowly began to sip his tea.

John looked over and answered, "I'll be fine, Sherlock. It's only a half day, and you know that if you need me you can always call me, or text."

Sherlock shook his head, "I mean should you be going to work since you are feeling unwell, wouldn't it be better to spend it in bed, in case I do need you, which for this case looks likely."

"I'll be fine Sherlock, there isn't anything to worry about." John told him, sounding more confidant that he felt.

"I do worry, I can tell that you are in pain, and I can also see that you have a slight fever, of around 37.9°C," Sherlock said as he looked his friend over once again.

"Sherlock, I'll be all right," he once again reassured him, "I have a half day at the clinic tomorrow, and if you need me all you have to do is text or call, as normal. If I get home and nothing is going on, I'll sleep a little more." He added, hoping that his flatmate and friend wouldn't decide to go off on his own, as was normally the case when John couldn't join him, and that worried the shorter man.

"Very well, though if you don't think you can handle things tell me," he said softly as he looked over to him and added, "I have a feeling that I will need you tomorrow, when I don't know, just make sure you are up to it."

John nodded and yawned, "well, I'm off to bed," he smiled as he stood up and then added, "I don't suppose you will be going to bed anytime tonight?"

Sherlock glanced over with a look of 'Now that is the stupidest question you have ever asked me' on his face. John grinned a little and nodded as he walked out of the room and to the stairs and up to his room.

John quickly changed into some sweats and an old T-shirt and settled down into bed, sighing a little as he was finally able to relax. It didn't take him long to fall asleep, with a last thought of 'Hope this doesn't last long'.

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**Thank you or the reviews, I hope you continue to enjoy it. Please review and tell me what you all think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**This is my first time in writing Sherlock Fanfiction, so I do hope that you will be kind to me as I make my way and learn the ropes of the characters that are Sherlock Holmes, Dr John H Watson and those that join them on their many cases and adventures through the streets of London.**

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No Pain, No Gain

Chapter Four

John leaned back in his office chair and sighed a little, it was coming to the end of a long day for him. Over the last hour his temperature had gone up, and he was truly feeling the chill in the room. He knew that it was the flu, there was nothing else that it could be to him, since he hadn't come across anything worse than that over the last few weeks during his shifts at the Clinic. He quickly finished up the last of his notes for his last patient of the day. He looked around the room and over to the clock, his shift was officially over now, thankful once again that he only had a half day. He just hoped that when he got home , he would have a chance to curl up and jest relax and rest for a while.

He stood up, frowning as the world around him tilted slight before it righted itself. The doctor walked out of his office and into the reception area, that only had a few more patients to be seen in it. He could see Sarah already standing at the reception desk, talking to the woman sat behind it. He walked over to them both, giving them a warm smile as he came to a stop beside Sarah.

"John," Sarah smiled over to him as she then asked, "Are you done for the day?"

"Yes," he smiled back as he gave a nod to Anna as she smiled over to him.

"You look a little pale," She noticed as she looked him over a little, her doctors eye easily spotting that her friend was a little unwell, "Is everything all right?" she then asked.

"Just starting to feel a little under the weather, thats all." He brushed off her concern, not really wanting to go into any details about what he was feeling. He knew that he wouldn't be able to lie to her either, a doctor was trained to spot these types of things after all.

"All right," she nodded a little, "are you fine to come in tomorrow?" she then asked him, worry starting to creep into her voice.

"I should be, if not I'll call." He smiled, his eyes warming, even thought all he wanted to do was to hurry up and get home.

"Okay, make sure you do, and if you are feeing ill, make sure to call early," she told him with a small nod and smile.

"I will," he nodded back, not likely the dizzy feeling he felt when he did so.

John said good bye to the two of them once again and the for ready to head back home. He left the clinic and headed for the tube station, he would have gone for a taxi, but it seemed a little frivolous when he wasn't with Sherlock. The tube jolted his body, making it start to ache even more as it stopped and started through the stations. He got off at the right station, thankful that Baker Street wasn't that far away. He walked quickly, hoping a little that Sherlock would be out, so that he could have some tea, and maybe, if his stomach didn't rebel at the thought, a little food. After that he had plans to lay down and have a little sleep, and hope that Sherlock would leave him be for a few hours at least.

XxXxX

Sherlock lay deep in thought as he went over the latest information about the case he and John were on. It didn't take long for his mind to depart from the details of the case once again, though there wasn't much he could do until that night. His mind wandered quickly over the John. Since the moment in the pool when he had gone to confront Moriarty and instead had first came across John, his heart had sunk, deeply, John was in danger, and that was something that Sherlock didn't like to think about. After that he had taken to watching John, to making sure that Moriarty wouldn't get him again.

The consulting detective wanted nothing more than to make sure that John would remain safe and sound and never put in harms way again. Then on the other hand, he knew that the dangerous life style they had, with chasing the criminals of London and solving the crimes that they had committed helped in keeping the two of them sane. Sherlock shook his head a little and thought back to the case, he needed to break away from his thoughts of John.

Grey eyes closed on the world as he went back into his mind and thought of the case. He knew that the killer was a woman, but why? Why was she killing these men. Was it just because they were gay? Simple revenge, or was there something more, something deeper to it all. He would know better if he could meet with her, he would be able to figure it out after that. He heard the door to the flat creak a little as he opened his eyes again, a little annoyed that he hadn't heard the door the front door open. He smiled a little when he saw John walked into the room.

Sherlock looked him over and the smile dropped from his face as he said, "you're paler than you were when you left for work." He said as he sat up on the sofa and waited for the man to come into the flat properly, instead of standing leaning against the door frame.

"Sherlock," John sighed, shaking his head slightly at the blunt announcement, as he went into the kitchen, and move around one of the experiments that had been left out, he was thankful that this one was to do with soil samples and not bacteria or body parts. He filled the kettle and switched it on, prepping the mugs for tea.

"What is wrong exactly John?" he asked, wanting to know what medical condition his friend was in. He stood up from the sofa and walked over to the kitchen and looked to him, watching him intently.

"Nothing, just not feeing my best, some rest and I should be fine," He said, though he knew that wouldn't be the case in the end, it would take at least a few days, maybe a week or so to feel anything resembling fine.

Sherlock moved forwards and moved John out of the way as he said, "Then go and sit down," he could tell by the small crease between John's eyes that the man was in pain, and wouldn't be admitting it anytime soon. He also knew that John wasn't telling the truth, but he had no doubt he would find out soon enough.

"Sherlock," John huffed a little, "I am fine enough o make some tea you know," he protested being almost man handled out of the way.

"John," Sherlock began as he turned to look to him, he noted that the other was leaning against the counter, "I can see that you are in pain, and that you are fighting yourself to remain standing at this moment in time. I also know that all you wish to do is to lay down and sleep," he told him, steel grey eyes locking onto the light blue of his friend, hoping to get across that the other should take the hint and rest a while.

John sighed, Sherlock was right, he knew that, but he still wasn't someone that would lay around, even while ill, it just wasn't in his nature. "I can still do things," he said as Sherlock pushed him out of the kitchen this time and into the living room, only to fall backwards into his chair. His body protested the man handling, but letting itself be let along until he was leaning back in his chair and unconsciously closing his eyes as he began to relax.

"Here," Sherlock said a few moments later as he placed a mug of hot tea down on the end table next to the chair. The consulting detective went over to sofa and sat down himself, placing his own mug on the coffee table, "You'll need to get as much rest as you can. I will be needing your help tonight," he added as he leaned back on the sofa and look over to his tired and ill friend. He hated the fact that he would be dragging the ex solider out, but he had no choice for this case.

John slumped a little at the admittance as he quired, "is there no way that you would be able to go on your own?" he really did want nothing more than to sleep for a few days.

"No," he replied, a tinge of guilt in his voice as he added, "I've been able to narrow down the place where she will strike next, and please, you'll need to chose something a little different to wear to this one."

"And why would I need something different to wear?" he asked, though he had a feeling he really didn't want to know the answer.

"We're going to the Fiore's Nightclub tonight. It's a gay men only club, and I believe that is the next target of our killer, going on previous patterns." He smirked a little, knowing that the question was John's way of saying yes he would be going with Sherlock, "I think you might want to wear something, I don't know a little more flamboyant than you normally do for a date."

John's blue eyes narrowed as he looked over to him, seeing the smirk on the others face he said, "not going to happen Sherlock, we have enough rumours to contend with, without adding a few more to it." John kept a straight face as he thought about making those rumours ring true, he gently shook his head and cleared the image from his mind, before Sherlock was able to deduce it, and he had no doubt that the other would in the end.

"John, I will need you there," he said sincerely as he added, "I need you there so that you can make sure that the unwanted attention of the other patrons leave me alone. I need to look around and will not have time for me to be doing both of those. If I go there with someone that is seen as a partner then it is unlikely that I will attract attention from others." He said as he then thought of the things that he needed John to know before heading to the club later that night, "She will be quite small compared to most and will also be dressed well, in order to pull her victim in and get him to follower her out of the club. The club has more than one exit, so we need to keep an eye on them all." He finished.

John sighed as he picked up his tea and took a sip before saying, "just don't expect too much from me, my clubbing days are long gone."

"At least make an effort," he told him, sipping his own tea, he grimaced slightly, it wasn't the best cup of tea he had made, even thought it was just basic chemistry, he could never get it quite right, like John did.

"Fine, but before that, I am getting some sleep." John informed him as he drank the rest of his tea, letting it warm him up.

"You should, you'll need the energy." Sherlock nodded as he went back to thinking about the case and making sure that he hadn't missed anything.

John rolled his eyes and thought better of having anything to eat. His stomach was rolling a little from the tea he was finishing. He got up slowly got up and said goodnight to Sherlock, who made a small grunt in acknowledgement. He shook his head and carried on up the, leaving Sherlock along to his thoughts once again and hoping that he would feel reasonably all right when they went out later that night.

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**Thank you for the reviews, please review and tell me what you all think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**This is my first time in writing Sherlock Fanfiction, so I do hope that you will be kind to me as I make my way and learn the ropes of the characters that are Sherlock Holmes, Dr John H Watson and those that join them on their many cases and adventures through the streets of London.**

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No Pain, No Gain

Chapter Five

Sherlock once again lay on the sofa, eyes closed and his hands pressed together over his chest. Thinking deeply, but not about the case, as most would suspect. He had lay there for almost an hour now, after he had finished his mold experiment, he was thinking about John. The ex army doctor was a puzzle and one Sherlock still hadn't been able to figure out in the year that he had known him for. When he had first met the man, he didn't think he would stick around for long. The first thing he had wanted to do when he had met the man a second time was to get rid of that limp, and with a rush of adrenaline, it had gone, though it would come back ever now and then when the man talked to his sister for any length of time, along with the tremor in his left hand.

The man could put up with him, when he was engrossed in his thoughts and picked up his violin to play at three in the morning. Such strong morals as well, and with John only knowing him for around 24 hours, he had killed someone to protect him, to save him. He had been kidnapped and his girlfriend had almost been killed along with him, but he remained and still went with him on cases. Then there was Moriarty, kidnapping him, strapping him in a vest of Semtex, after all that a lesser man would have turned tail and ran. But John, no, not John, he thrived on it and stayed, carrying on working along side Sherlock as they worked on other cases.

John was a good friend, loyal and helped guide him through the social niceties that he often ignored. He opened his eyes as he heard movement from upstairs, restless movement of man who's sleep was being interrupted. Sherlock swung around and sat up on the sofa, he frowned a little as he knew what John sounded like when his dreams took on a more disturbing tone, and this wasn't it. He sighed a little as he realised that it was because the other man was ill, it was the first time that he had known the man to become ill. There was a most disconcerting feeling that had settled into the pit of his stomach when he saw his friend after he had come back from work.

He stood up and went over the desk, where his violin lay, waiting for him to once again pluck at the strings and grace them with his bow. He ran gentle fingers over the strings as he thought for a moment and then picked it up, plucking them, listening to the tone, smiling when it was still in tune. He picked up his bow and walked over to the window and began to play. The soothing tones reverberating through the room and up the stairs, into the room that belong to his friend, helping to sooth away the restlessness that he was suffering from.

A smile began to form on Sherlock's face as he played, his eyes closing on their own accord as he listened out for his friend as the sounds of distress began to cease. In then end all he could hear was the music coming from the instrument that he was playing, his mind began to wander as he carried on playing, thinking a little more about John and how recently, the nightmares that the other had while Sherlock was awake could be soothed away with him playing the violin. It gave the man a funny feeling as he helped his friend, and one that he couldn't deny made him happy.

As he began another piece of music, he heard movement from upstairs, this was not restlessness, or nightmares. He smiled as he could tell that the other was now awake and beginnign to move around to come downstairs. He stopped playing and put the violin away this time, instead of leaving it out on the desk. He turned to the stairs as John walked down them and into the room. Sherlock frowned in worry as he could see that the man was paler that he had been when he went to sleep. He didn't know if the other would even be able to come with him that night.

"Hey," John greeted him with a weak smile on his face, and his voice slightly scratch as he spoke.

"You look and sound even worse," Sherlock stated as he looked him over, concern on his face.

John grimaced at the bluntness of the statement, but knew that he wouldn't be able to deny it this time, "Yeah, I'll be fine for tonight though, just don't expect me to d much talking," he said, giving a small smile.

The detective nodded in agreement as he wince a little in sympathy at the scratchy and gravelled voice that his friend was now using, "No, I don't think it would give the image that we wish to portray," he said, as he looked to the clock on the mantle and noticed the hour was starting to get late.

"Are you at least contacting Lestrade, to tell him what we are doing?" he then asked as he went to the kitchen and made his way to the kitchen to make them both some tea.

"I don't want him and the bumbling fools that he works with interfering," He answered his friends question.

John sighed as he listened to the insults, "Sherlock, we've talked about this, if we're going to be doing something that he needs to know about, which includes going under cover as it were, we have to call and let him know, just in case something goes wrong." He said as he then added, "If we want the killer arrested as well, then we will also need him around to make the arrest."

"You talked about it," Sherlock said as he looked over to him and then finsihed, "I just listened, doesn't mean that I agreed to it." He walked over the kitchen and watched John make the tea.

"I'll call him in a moment," he sighed as he finished the tea and handed one of the mugs over to his friend.

"Hmm," he hummed as he looked to his friend, "i don't think it is a good idea for you to come with me, you're ill. I should do this alone," he murmured as he looked worriedly to John.

John looked to him, eyes narrowing at the thought of Sherlock going it alone, Not going to happen Sherlock. Either I come with you, or we get someone from the Yard to go with you."" He told him, his voice serious, "And I don't think you would want to make nice with Anderson all night." He told him as he moved past him and sat down on his chair. There was still around two hours before they would have to head to the club, and he was going to use that time to, hopefully, psych himself up for the noise that would be assaulting him and his headache for who knows how long.

Sherlock watch him go, contemplating what he could do to make the night as easy as possible on John, since the other had made it clear that he wouldn't be left behind. He stood in the kitchen and sipped his tea, enjoying the taste, there was nothing better than John's tea, it was always perfect. He quickly went over what he needed to tell John about their undercover mission, "We will need to be on the look out for a small well dressed male, they will be flirting with a long of men, mostly those in the age bracket of 20-25, blond haired, and tall, lithe." He said as he described the people the killer targeted., "Their next victim. They are very slim, petite, make sure to keep that in mind, they would look androgynous. We'll be walking around the club, constantly in movement, thankfully it isn't the largest club out there," he added as he walked over to the other chair and sat down, facing John.

John looked over to him and nodded, wincing a little when it caused a sharp pain in his head, "Well, I'm calling Lestrade and telling him was we are doing. And where we will be. Since if we are going to come across this killer, and she does have a gun on her, it might be a good thing to have some backup hidden somewhere." He told him softly, hoping that the other would be all right with that.

Sherlock ran a hand through dark curls as he nodded reluctantly, "Fine," he said, only agreeing since he could see that John wouldn't be up to their normal routine when it came to chasing a criminal all over the roof tops of London.

The ex soldier felt as thought he had won a war at Sherlock's agreement, "Food," he smiled to him as he picked up his phone from the side table and called Lestrade.

"_Detective Inspector Lestrade speaking,_" came the strong and sure voice of the inspector as he answered his phone.

"Hey Greg," John greeted him, keeping his voice up beat and cheerful, though it still sounded rough and terrible.

"_What's wrong with you? You sound terrible._" He asked his friend as concern crept into his voice.

"Just a sore throat," he answered, and before his friend could say anything else, or call him on the lie he had just given, he carried on, "Sherlock believes he knows where the killer will strike next. We're heading down to the Fiore's club, we'll be inside looking around for her, thought you would want to know."

Lestrade sighed at the information he had been given, "_Fine, but I would like someone else o go in with the two of you._" He argued a little as he thought of all the things that could go wrong.

"Not a good idea!" Sherlock called out, he had been able to hear what the Yarder had said and disagreed with someone going in with them.

"_Sherlock,_" he growled a little as he then added, "_What about some plain clothes officers outside and around the building,_" he offered, hoping that he would at least agree to that, since he knew that Sherlock would be stubborn about having someone in the club with them and that could cause problems.

"That will be fine," he said as he gave Sherlock a look, making sure he didn't have anything against it, the younger man said nothing as John carried on and said, "Sherlock and I will be inside, as soon as we have something we'll send you a text, you'll be able to come in then, it wouldn't do to scare them away before we spot them." John nodded, as Sherlock drank the rest of his tea and nodded absently.

"_Come to the Yard, we'll get you a few things so that you can contact us more easily._" He told John as he thought of an idea that would help them a little.

"Okay then, we'll head down to the Yard before we hit the club. See you in a bit." John nodded, wincing once again as he temporarily forgot about the headache that had been brewing since he had woke up.

"_Right, see you in a while._" He said as he ended the call.

John looked to Sherlock as he said, "Okay, he'll have someone outside of the club, and he asked us to go to the Yard before we go to the club, I think I'll have a shower and change in a bit." He smiled a little as he shivered and huddled back into the chair, hoping for a little warmth as he stared into the half full mug of tea.

Sherlock sent the man a worried look, he just hoped that John would be all right when this was over and that he hadn't pushed himself too hard. He sighed as he watched him and then stood up, deciding that he would start getting ready now and not later, he quickly told John, who nodded absently as he then left the room to shower and change, thinking what he could do to make sure John would be all right.

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**Thank you for the reviews so far, please tell me what you think of the chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own BBC Sherlock; they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**This is my first time in writing Sherlock Fanfiction, so I do hope that you will be kind to me as I make my way and learn the ropes of the characters that are Sherlock Holmes, Dr John H Watson and those that join them on their many cases and adventures through the streets of London.**

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**No Pain, No Gain**

**Chapter Six**

The music of the club beat a steady and painful rhythm, that John couldn't help but wince at, it now went in time to the pointing in his head, and the aches he was feeling in his whole body. The club was hot, tightly packed with clubbers, making the place seem even hotter than it was, but to John, he was still freezing cold. Sherlock and he had been there for over an hour at that point, walking around the room, and even daring to move across the dance floor, only to feel a few gropes as they went. Both had decided that they wouldn't try that again unless they had no choice.

The killer had first struck two weeks ago, within six days another body had been found, then four days after that, then two. Then that morning another had been found, a day after the last one had been killed and found. Each time the killer had struck had been more vicious than the last, and with five victims so far, they were keen to try and catch her now, rather than later. The gay community had been informed of what was going on, and each club in the area over the last four days had been given posters and notices to make sure patrons tried to keep themselves safe. But while each kill was becoming vicious, she was also becoming sloppy, and was beginning to make mistakes.

The two men made their way around the dance floor, keeping to the edge of the building. Neither of them wanted to chance going out onto the dance floor to have their butt pinched and groped. John looked back towards Sherlock, whose eyes were scanning the crowd as he tried to see where their killer was, or even is she was in the club. John looked his friend over and had to admit that he looked a lot different than normal, he was dressed in blue jeans, which were indecently tight on the young man, as well as a shimmery silk plum shirt, with three buttons undone at the top. In the visible gap a pendant hung, a small silver bee.

John himself had gone for something similar. Though Sherlock had convinced him to wear his bright red shirt, instead of the dusky blue one he had first picked out. His jeans were black, and he wore his old army boots. They had been able to leave when Sherlock ran to his room and came back, with his dog tags hanging from a finger. He had reluctantly put them on, was beginning to get annoyed when they kept falling out of his shirt. He had done his shirt up not long after they got to the club, but Sherlock had looked to him and undone them, telling him to leave them undone, running fingers across his skin as he pulled the dog tags out. John had been a little confused by the action, but said nothing as they carried on going around the club.

"_Any luck?_" came a voice over the ear piece that the two were wearing, there was also a small microphone near the collar of their shirts so they would be able to talk back to them, thankfully it was sensitive enough to be able to pick up their voices in the noisy club.

"No, nothing yet," John said as he looked around the crowd, hoping he would be able to spot something. A feeling of lethargy came over him as he rubbed his eyes a little and bit back a yawn as he looked to Sherlock, who was now staring intently towards the far side of the room, "Sherlock?" he asked, wondering what it was that had the genius' attention.

Sherlock didn't answer, as he started walking towards what ever it was that he had seen, John quickly following him. It didn't take him long to figure out that they were heading for the exit on the north side of the building, "Lestrade," John said as he carried on after Sherlock, who was a few meters ahead of him now, "North side, Sherlock's heading out and I'm following," he told the detective that was listening in.

"_Okay, we're heading there now,_" he replied.

Sherlock went through the doors first, as John rushed to catch up to him. He went out the doors as he saw Sherlock running off, he sighed a little as he told Lestrade, "We're heading towards the back alleys," he then started running as well, following his flatmate, who was still in sight. The man came to a stop and John stopped near him as he was waved to stay back a little.

They could just see a small male looking figure pointing a gun at a taller male that was stumbling a little. They watched as the man stumbled to the ground, the smaller looking on with glee as the taller finally feel to the ground fully, looking up at the person who had brought him out of the club.

"All the same, all the same type of filth, all thinking about nothing but cock." The person ranted, it was obvious that it was truly the killer that they were after.

Sherlock moved a little closer, brushing on something making a noise. John took a step back, making sure that he would be able to be seen. It was too late for him to drag Sherlock back and out of sight, as the killer turned and aimed a gun at him. You could tell in that moment that the figure was actually female.

"Who…" she started to say as she kept the gun up and pointed towards Sherlock, making sure to keep him in her sights.

"Just a concerned patron of Fiore's." Sherlock said as he moved around a little, making sure that where he had just been would now be at the back of the woman, so that John wouldn't be seen at all.

"Take another step and you'll be dead," she then told him as she had enough of him moving around, he brown eyes were like ice as they now stared at him.

John gave an inaudible sigh as he watched Sherlock draw her attention so that she was now facing away from him. He looked to the man on the floor who was trembling and looking around, confusion bright in his eyes. Sherlock got the woman's attention again and the gun pointed away from Sherlock for a moment. John made his move, ignoring his aching body, he moved quickly and stealthy behind her and grabbed the gun arm, twisting it enough that she had no choice but to drop the gun. She tried to twist and he saw a flash of something in his vision as he moved slightly. He grabbed her wrist and put pressure on it, making her drop the knife that had gashed his arm open a little. He could hear the pounding of feet fast approaching them as the knife clanged to the ground.

"I'll take her from here," Lestrade said as he took the woman from John and cuffed her.

John nodded and ignoring the niggling pain in his arm, and the slow flow of blood that was oozing from it, he went over the victim that was still laying on the ground, "What did you give him?" He asked the woman, as he looked to her.

"Humph," she huffed as she turned away from him and said nothing.

"Insulin," Sherlock said, as he knew knelt nearby looking at an insulin pen that had been used and dropped.

John nodded and then called out, "Get me some pop, a can of something, and move it." He looked to Donovan as he made his order, "Make sure it has plenty of sugar in it and call an ambulance," he instructed as she ran off and he looked down to the man that was weakly trying to get up, "Hey, lay still, everything is all right now," he comforted as he gave the man a smile, reassuring him that everything was fine now and that he was safe.

Sally came back quickly and handed him a can of cola, "here," she said as she handed it over.

John nodded and opened it, helping the man sit up enough and got him to start drinking it, "Come on," he encouraged, "Drink as much as you can." He told him softly as they herd the sirens in the background get closer.

It didn't take long for the two paramedics to come up and see him, "What is it?" one of them asked as he knelt down beside John.

John looked to him and said, "Insulin overdose, I've got him to drink a sugary drink, so that will help a little."

"Okay, thank you, I'll take if from here, and Nikki will see to your arm." He said as he noticed the gash that was still bleeding, though you could barely tell with the red shirt that John was wearing.

"Huh?" he asked as he then remembered the knife slicing into his arm, "it'll be fine, I can take are of it later on." He protested as Nikki touched him on the shoulder and got him to stand.

"Well, why don't I just clean it and stitch it up." She told him with a smile on her face.

"Just do it John," Sherlock said, impatience clear for all to hear in his voice.

John sighed and nodded as Nikki quickly got to work. He was just glad that he didn't have to head to the hospital to have it done. He counted the twenty stitches before she stopped and it was cleaned again and bandaged.

"Keep it clean…" she was about to tell him what he needed to know.

He shook his head, "I'm a doctor, and I know the drill." He smiled to her as he turned his head and gave a harsh cough, his body beginning to ache once again as the adrenalin faded from him.

"Sounds like you need a refresher course," she teased him as she added, "you don't sound well."

John rolled his eyes a little and nodded slightly, "I don't need a course, I just got dragged out" he stood and then went over to Sherlock, who was now standing next to Lestrade after he had sent the woman off with Donovan to the station.

"Thanks again Sherlock, you as well John," he smiled as he looked from the consulting Detective to the ex army doctor.

"No problem," John smiled as he shivered, the heat of the club gone, and the thrill of the adrenaline now worn off fully, he was achy, cold and tired, wanting nothing more than to be warm and cosy in his bed.

"What a lift home?" he asked the two of them as he drew a concerned eye over the smaller male.

"No thank you," Sherlock said quickly.

"Okay, I'll come to the flat tomorrow to get your statements, make sure to be in." Lestrade said as he glanced to John, who was becoming paler by the minute, he could see that the doctor was beginning to sway a little and he looked tired and worn as he stood there.

Sherlock nodded his head as he grabbed John's arm, more to steady him that anything. He led the way to the main street, and called for a taxi as soon as he got there. One pulled up and the two got inside, leaving Lestrade to watch them as it pulled away from the curb.

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**Thank you for the reviews so far, glad you are enjoying it, please review and tell me what you think of this one, I would love to know.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't own BBC Sherlock, they are the creative works of Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and of course the wonderful Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.**

**This is my first time in writing Sherlock Fanfiction, so I do hope that you will be kind to me as I make my way and learn the ropes of the characters that are Sherlock Holmes, Dr John H Watson and those that join them on their many cases and adventures through the streets of London.**

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**No Pain, No Gain**

**Chapter Seven**

The cab was cold and John subconsciously moved a little closer to Sherlock, enjoying the warmth that he could feel from the other, since he didn't have a jacket with him. Sherlock looked down to him and wrapped an arm around him, pulling the shorter man closer, hoping that he was able to warm the other up. He was concerned since he could feel the heat coming from John as well.

"Sherlock?" John questioned, wondering what the other was doing, a small frown on his face.

"You're cold John, you are wearing a shirt only at the moment, and I believe that you have a fever of 38.4°C at this time." He said as he looked down to him, "Sharing body heat will help for now and keep the chills away until we get home. Then when we get home, you can go straight to bed." He added as he held him tightly, John tried to move away for a moment, before giving in and enjoying the moment, relaxing as he did so.

Almost fifteen minutes later the cab pulled up at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock looked to John, reluctant to wake him from the light doze that he had fallen into on the journey. He woke him up and the two climbed out of the cab, with Sherlock paying this time. John swayed a little as he stood, Sherlock moved to him and steadied him as he then helped the other up the stairs. John took off his coat, he made his way over to the sofa and lay down on it, not having the strength to make his way up the stairs to his room. He lay back and closed his eyes as he could hear Sherlock moving around in the kitchen.

John startled a little and his eyes flew open from the light doze he had drifted in when Sherlock said, "Here, hot lemon tea with some honey," he placed it down on the coffee table and took John's usual chair instead of his own.

John looked over to him, a grateful smile on his face, "Thanks," he said as he started to sit up a little, only to flop back down when a wave of dizziness over took him. He closed his eyes against it as the room began to spin a little and settled back down, not wanting to move at all now.

Sherlock looked to him, a worried frown making its way onto his face. John was pale, very pale compared to how he was normally, and the taller male knew that dragging him out that night had done nothing but harm to the shorter man. John was sweating and shaking as well as the fever made itself known. He watched as John placed an arm over his eyes, blocking out the light in the room.

He stood up and turned off the light in the room, plunging it into near darkness as he then went over to the table and turned on one of the lamps, letting its soft glow fill the room. He looked over John once more and then went to his bedroom and grabbed his quilt and pillow from it and took them out to the living room. He dropped the pillow onto the floor and covered John with the quilt.

"Wha…?" John questioned as he moved his arm and opened his eyes, only to meet the concerned gaze of Sherlock's grey eyes.

"I don't believe you will be moving much from there tonight. Though I would suggest that you change into something more comfortable. I can get something from your room and you can change in the bathroom, or out here. I wont be getting any sleep tonight, so I'll watch over you." He said, his voice soft as he looked down to him and then knelt beside him.

"I'll be fine after a good rest," he said with a slight shake of his head.

"We'll see," he said as he looked into the unfocused gaze of his friends. He lifted his head up and placed the pillow underneath, he ran a hand through short blond hair and sighed a little. He stood up and left John along once again as he went up the stairs to the doctors bedroom.

Sherlock walked in and looked around the room, it was neat and tidy, though he didn't expect anything else from the ex army doctor. He walked over to the bed and saw the pyjamas that John normally wore, neatly folded at the bottom of the bed. He turned to leave the room when the glint on something metallic catches his eye. On the post of the headboard are John's dog tags. He had never seen John wear them since they had met and often wondered what the other had done with them. He reached out and took hold, running his finger over the embossed lettering and then letting them fall as he went back out of the room to John.

He walked down the stairs and went into the living room and stopped, a smile forming on his face as he could hear the soft snores coming from the other. He walked over and looked down, John was almost invisible as he had pulled the quilt over his head, and all Sherlock could see were small tufts of blond hair poking out at the top. He smiled as he placed the clothing down on the back of the sofa and made sure that John was going to be warm enough. He grinned a little more as he saw that John had been able to drink some of the tea he had made for the other. He took out the empty cup and took it to the kitchen.

Sherlock walked out of the kitchen and over to the bookcase on the other side of the room and looked through the titles, he had a few that he hadn't read yet, and picked one out. He went over t John's chair and sat down, angling it a little more so he could easily see John. He settled down and with a last glance to John he began to read his book, only stopping when he heard the other move, or when he looked up to check on him.

XxXxX

John sighed as he settled back down on the sofa. He had just changed into the pyjamas that Sherlock had brought down earlier, the small task of changing had exhausted him of what little energy he had gathered during his sleep. He was once more on the sofa, quilt covering him up at Sherlock's insistence. He didn't know why the other wouldn't just let him go to his own room and sleep of the flu that he had come down with.

John had woken earlier with Sherlock watching him, his steel grey eyes full of worry and concern. It had puzzled the other a little, as he didn't think that Sherlock would be the type to worry about someone when they were ill. He looked over to Sherlock once again, only to find the other was yet again, watching him intently.

"What is it Sherlock?" he asked, wincing as his throat protested and sent him a sharp reminder that he should remain quiet for a while.

"Would you like another drink?" He asked, answering the question as he did so.

John nodded, thinking it wouldn't hurt his throat at all, and may even help, "Would appreciate it, thank you." He replied softly as he brought his hand up and rubbed at his throat.

Sherlock got up, putting aside the book he had been reading once again. He went to the kitchen and quickly prepared another Lemon tea with honey. He walked back in and placed it on the coffee table and went back to John's chair and sat down, not bothering to pickup his book again.

John sighs as he looked to it, only to end up triggering a coughing fit, he struggles to sit up. Sherlock almost jumps from the chair and goes over, he helps John sit up and lets him cough. He leaned back against Sherlock tiredly as he finished coughing and closed his eyes as it started his head pounding once again. His throat felt raw, and the room was spinning with no end in sight as he shivered, welcoming the warmth that he was leaning against.

"I hate this," John murmurs as he unconsciously moves back a little more, wanting the warmth of Sherlock.

"Drink a little and then go back to sleep," Sherlock told him softly, his voice soothing as he ran a hand through the short blond hair, hoping to give just a little comfort to his friend.

"Okay," John spoke, his voice becoming harsh and gravely. He reached out a shaking hand and took hold of the cup, almost dropping it as he brought it closer. Sherlock helped, making sure that he wouldn't drop it, as he took a few sips. He grimaced a little at the taste, he wasn't that much of a fan of lemon, or honey, but at least it would help to sooth the raw feeling in his throat, "Thanks," he whispered as he put the cup back a few minutes later, after drinking almost all of it.

"Lay back and sleep John," Sherlock said softly as he helped the man lay back down. Carding his fingers through the short hair, he watched as blue eyes began to close and then remained that way as John fell asleep once more. Sherlock remained there, knelt on the floor, running his fingers through the fine hair, relishing the closeness between them. He gave a sigh as he stood up and went back to the book and chair, once more watching over John as he slept.

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**Thank you for the wonderful reviews. They keep me on track as I edit. Please review and tell me what you all think, I would love to know.**


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